


To Endure You Every Day

by ascience



Category: Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, FIFA World Cup 2014, Fluff and Crack, German National Team, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 09:58:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2146476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ascience/pseuds/ascience
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 times someone thinks Manuel and Kevin are dating + 1 time they kind of are dating.</p><p>Or:<br/>"Not that they’re BFFs now.<br/>More like BTSGTKEOASHEOs.<br/>Which translates to Best Team-Mates Slowly Getting To Know Each Other And Stop Hating Each Other.<br/>Obviously. Manuel puts this one on his list of things he wants to get a registered trademark for."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Philipp

When Kevin and Manuel meet on the airport to board the plane to Brazil, Manuel knows that everyone (including himself) is expecting some kind of epic rivalry showdown.  
Shkodran actually whips out his phone and starts recording as soon as Kevin walks through the door – as if they are going to re-enact Fight Club in the middle of the hall.

Manuel had promised to hold back with insults but Jogi doesn’t really get this whole thing they’ve got going on.  
Frenemies, vague emphasis on _enemies_ perhaps, but it’s definitely all fine, alright? It’s Kevin’s fault that he’s so dumb and easy to insult and that he plays for _Borussia Dortmund_.

Long story short, Manuel loves to hate Kevin and hates to love- uhm, _whatever_.  
Their quarrelling is an important part of who they are so Manuel opens his mouth as soon as he sees Kevin.  
_Didn’t you find a kebab shop on the way here or why are you on time, Großkreutz?_ he wants to say but he doesn’t even get past the “didn’t” when Kevin walks up to him and. _Okay._ _What?_  
Kevin hugs him.  
_Kevin hugs him?_

It’s not even one of those bro-type hugs, it’s a full-on good-to-see-you-again-brother hug and for a second, Manuel wonders whether this is some practical joke.  
He closes his mouth, opens it again and closes it again. He looks like a struggling fish on land and doesn’t know where to put his hands although Kevin is apparently quite happy with his on Manuel’s back.

Everyone is staring at them; even Basti and Lukas stop their elaborate game of gay chicken (that had transcended all rules of manly relationships during the years) to eye Manuel and Kevin.

Manuel awkwardly pats Kevin’s back and moves out of the embrace.

“Good to, uhm, good to see you again?” he says with a voice that you could describe as steady if you looked for the broadest definition in some illiterate corner of the Internet.

Kevin smiles at him like they’re goddamn BFFs or whatever before it turns into a sly grin and he laughs.  
“All the other goalies sick or why are they taking you?”

Manuel feels himself loosen up again although he didn’t even know he had held his breath. It’s like the insult breaks the spell that had somehow turned Kevin into a remotely normal, nice human being who one could get along with.

“Fuck off!" he manages to say and okay, so he isn’t going to be nominated for _Greatest Comeback 2k14_ but he also didn’t even mention kebab once so he figured he might deserve the medal for _Greatest Restraint 2k14_ and decides to ask Jogi about that later.

Kevin walks off with his suitcase to talk to Mats and leaves Manuel wondering what the hell just happened.

It’s a pretty popular question among the group of guys standing close to him, as it turns out.  
“What the hell just happened?”, Basti asks and if he had been a little more confused, a literal question mark would have appeared above his head.  
“Whatever it was,” Shkodran grins and waves with his phone, “I’ve got it all in perfect quality and I’m selling to the highest bidder.”

They laugh and synchronously enter a joke competition about Manu and Kevin. The winner (Thomas for explaining the striking parallel between them and the last fighting couple on _Goodbye Deutschland_ ) is crowned just as their flight is announced ready for boarding and Manuel decides that they can all screw themselves and takes the seat next to Mesut on the plane.

Mesut looks up from the travel guide he is reading and whines for what feels like a whole minute because now Sami has to sit behind him but Manuel is not going to give up this perfect, quiet, _five-rows-away-from-Kevin_ seat.  
The whining stops when Mesut and Sami discover that they can still share headphones across one row.  
Manuel swears he can hear  _Atemlos_ playing lowly from the headphones but figures he must be imagining it.

He doesn’t feel entirely in balance yet again after Kevin’s totally heinous hug attack at the airport. After an hour or something, Manuel cranes his neck to try and get a glance at that douche behind him but surprisingly, Kevin is not spending his time knitting Anti-Manuel scarves for the entire team but seems to be reading a magazine.  
Of course, Manuel can see right through this act of innocence and decides to create a fake fan-account on instagram to spite-follow Kevin.

He pulls up the website on his phone when he feels a nudge in his shoulder.  
“You know you’re kind of obsessed with him?” Mesut whispers, his headphones still connecting him to Sami.  
“Why are you whispering?” Manuel asks instead of replying because no way in hell is he going to give Mesut any kind of satisfaction about this.

Mesut answers by pointing out the sleeping players around them.  
Some of them are still awake, Thomas for example is drawing moustaches on the security instructions of the plane, with his legs propped up against the seat in front of him in a way that has to be uncomfortable.

Most of the guys are sleeping though. Lukas is drooling on Basti’s shoulder who in turn is drooling on Lukas’ head and it’s disgustingly cute.  
Mario is using something that looks suspiciously like a jersey with the number 21 on it as a pillow. Sami has been lulled to sleep by the pop-tunes on their ipod.

Manuel feels another nudge in his shoulder and he curses Mesut for being so damn persistent.  
“I’ve known Kevin for a long time, alright? We’re just... rivals. But I don’t hate him – or like him! It’s all for show on the pitch.”  
Manuel doesn’t even believe himself when he says that while closing the instagram tab on his phone.  
Mesut raises an eyebrow and still doesn’t let it go.

Maybe choosing the seat next to the most attentive person on the team wasn’t the greatest idea when Manuel himself wasn’t even sure why he was so set on avoiding Kevin when Kevin himself seemed set on trying to be nice.  
But Manuel never said he was smart so you can go and write your snide remarks on a piece of paper, tear it in pieces and shove it down your throat, okay?

Mesut pulls a face that might be described as “I am talking to you right now instead of reading this informative book about Brazil so you better be grateful that I’m wasting my time on you without charging my usual fee for life advice”.

Well, maybe Mesut is just putting on a small smile but Manuel can totally see right through that, better believe it.

“Whatever it is, you should try to get on with him during this whole thing even if it’s just for the team. He’s actually an okay guy.” Mesut says , shrugs and turns around to the window and closes his eyes.  
Conversation concluded apparently. Whatever.

Manuel decides that he needs a new friend because Mesut is way too reasonable. He opens instagram again, after making sure that his seatmate wasn’t looking anymore and risks a glance into Kevin’s direction five rows behind him.  
Kevin looks up at the same moment and sends back a short but honest smile before returning to his magazine.  
Manuel concludes that this World Cup is going to be the weirdest event that ever happened to him and tries to sleep for the rest of the flight because what the fuck, maybe everything will be back to normal when he wakes up.

It isn’t and apparently, “five rows away” is not the distance that God (or Jogi or whoever is screwing this up right now) wants Manuel to have from Kevin during their stay in Brazil.  
They are going to share a house. A room even. Thanks. Awesome planning. Team spirit and shit.

If Kevin snores, he can get ready to sleep outside, Manuel angrily thinks to himself. Team spirit can go die in a ditch if it means that Kevin will act all weird and hug him and insult him right after.

However, Kevin doesn’t snore. Kevin also doesn’t block the bathroom for too long in the morning. Kevin is tidy enough, gets up to get the remote when the team watches tv together, knows a couple of good jokes that don’t involve Schalke.  
Kevin does insult Manuel sometimes but it’s in a familiar kind of way, in the way that Mats calls Benni a dick when he steals his sun glasses.  
Manuel throws insults right back but his heart isn’t in it like it used to be and when he calls Kevin slow now, it’s with a smile and a playful punch at his shoulder. This play-nice thing is contagious.

Kevin generally is a cool guy to room with and to train with and to play poker with and to hang around.

Kevin, Manuel decides, is a piece of shit for making himself so likeable, and he complains to Miro about it when they’re working through the warm-ups together.

“This has to be some kind of plan, right? To make me like him and then he’s going to – he’s going to – okay, I don’t know _what_ he’s going to do but it’ll be horrible.”

Miro just shakes his head and sighs like Manuel didn’t just explain an _n-tv_ -worthy conspiracy theory to him.

“For all I know, he’s going to throw kebab at – Miro, are you even listening? Grandpa?” Manuel tries again and has to cry out when Miro pushes against his leg too much and over-stretches it painfully for a second. That traitor.

“Call me grandpa again when you’ve scored as many goals as I have.”

Manuel pulls a face and Miro mimics him mockingly.

During the rest of this session, the team gets paired up and has to pass through different training stations. And, because the universe hates him, Manuel has to pair up with Kevin. They glare at each other for three seconds, then Kevin jabs his elbow into Manuel’s side and cheerfully says, “Loosen up, Manu”.

Manuel looks at Kevin making an actual effort to be his friend and brings himself to return the favour. The two of them start working out together and they even start doing small-talk about movies and songs and all that _normal_ stuff.  
Manuel thinks that maybe, yes, they had been childish and that they actually didn’t know each other very well and wow, Kevin liked Philipp Poisel, too? The others had always made fun of him for that guilty pleasure.

Not that they’re BFFs now. More like BTSGTKEOASHEO. Which translates to Best Team-Mates Slowly Getting To Know Each Other And Stop Hating Each Other. Obviously. Manuel puts this one on his list of things he wants to get a registered trademark for.

After the training, Mesut gives Manuel the thumbs up in the changing room and it’s probably related to Kevin but Manuel just returns the gesture without thinking about it too long.

Kevin and Manuel gradually start doing more and more things together and somehow, Manuel doesn’t even really notice until Philipp mentions it one day.

Jerome tells them about some great beach bar and Mats, Benni, Kevin and Manuel all decide to go along with him.  
Manuel doesn’t have his swimming shorts with him and runs to get them while the others are waiting for him and he has to pass by Philipp sitting in a garden swing, reading a book.  
The first time Manuel runs by him, Philipp just smiles and does a little wave but when Manuel is on his way back from his house, Philipp speaks up, just as he is walking past him.

“If I didn’t know that you’re supposed to be the worst rivals, I’d say you actually seem to... get on pretty well with each other.” Philipp says without looking up from his book.  
The statement seems innocent enough but there’s some undertone that Manuel can’t decipher.

He knits his brows and asks, “Who are talking about it?” although he knows but what is he supposed to answer? _Yes, actually Kevin and I are looking to elope? Can you hire a pastor?_

“Kevin.” Philipp replies calmly and turns a page. “You’re... _friends_ , right?”  
Why the fucking pause? Why the fuck does everyone here suddenly want to life-coach Manuel about Kevin?

“Yeah, sure.” Manuel says and is surprised by how easy that answer was. Yeah, they’re friends. Somehow. Wow.

Philipp nods like he knows something that Manuel doesn’t. He rubs his upper arm where the captain’s armband stays when they’re on the pitch.

“It’s nice that you’re able to show that in front of the team. No need to play up the old rivalry and everything.”  
Philipp turns another page but he definitely isn’t reading the book anymore.  
Manuel doesn’t get what Philipp is trying to say so he just hums affirmatively and wants to leave already when Philipp continues.

“We’re all going to be supportive, you know? I always had that feeling that you guys where just doing the fights for the media. It must be hard, that kind of relationship across different clubs. So, whatever, basically I’m saying be yourself here. With him. It’s okay.”  
Philipp looks at him all supportive and like he’s talking to his son and Manuel feels like he forgot to get on the right train.

Eyes wide, he asks, “What the hell?” because _what the hell???  
_ Manuel replays the conversation inside his head to the point where Philipp says ‘that kind of relationship’ with a secretive undertone.

Then he rewinds to what Mesut said on the plane about him seeming obsessed or whatever. Thinks about Kevin and himself hanging out together. Not unusually often but unusual for two guys who used to call each other the worst footballer on the planet, if not the universe.  
Looks at Philipp who does the absolute best as a captain for the team and tries to be accepting of everybody and makes sure no one’s sidelined and-

Oh.

Oh.

_Shit._

“It’s not- Kevin and I- We’re not – Together! Dating! We’re not – we’re not, uhm, doing that. At all. We’re friends.” Manuel says in a rush, shaking a little and if he didn’t know better, he’d say Philipp actually looks a bit disappointed.

“Oh. Right. Don’t take it this the wrong way then. Just doing the best for the team.” is the only thing Philipp says after that and returns to his book like nothing happened.

Just doing the best for the team, Manuel thinks and feels weirdly hot under his skin.

He turns around to where he can see Kevin, Mats, Benni and Jerome waiting for him across the yard. Mats has one arm around Benni’s shoulders and is gesticulating wildy.  
Whatever he’s saying, it seems to be funny because everyone is laughing and shaking their heads, including Kevin.  
Manuel sees Kevin’s smile and has to think of shitty fucking rainbows and god-awful puppies and wonders when the fuck _that_ happened because he certainly missed the Big Gay Memo on since when Kevin is supposed to be attractive.

Damn Philipp planting things into his mind. Must be the heat.  
Manuel shakes his head to get rid of all those thoughts and jogs over to his friends, trying to forget this new gay revelation.

Not that the gay revelation in itself was new. But the one about Kevin definitely was.

Well, not that there _was_ anything about Kevin. They were just friends. It only seemed weird because they were rivals before and they’re okay-ish friends now, right?  
Nobody says anything about Mats and Benni touching each other all the time, Manuel starts to think but doesn’t reach any conclusion because exactly those two guys decide to attack him and drop him into the water when they reach the beach.

Best to ignore all this and it will all go away.

Yeah, _right_ , he was in love with Kevin, Manuel repeats mockingly in his head. And he was the Queen of England. And Germany’s going to win the Cup in a stride. _Sure_.

Philipp probably just got confused from reading those harlequin romance novels. Totally.


	2. Lukas and Bastian

Surprise, surprise, _it_ doesn’t go away.

 _It_ being the big gay crush that Manuel developed on Kevin but he still prefers to be in denial about so he calls it _it_.

But _it_ doesn’t change anything, Manuel tells himself every day.  
So maybe he thinks Kevin is kind of good-looking and maybe he laughs about Kevin’s dumb jokes and maybe he sneakily looks at Kevin when he’s changing and _maybe_ he has commented on instagram with his fake account ~~once~~ ~~twice~~ three times but it’s not like he _cares_ , alright?

It’s World Cup time, their first game against Portugal is drawing near and Manuel is not going to let anything ( _anything_ ) (( _irgendetwas_ )) get in the way of a clean win. Not even that sucker Kevin. However great his abs may be.  
Not that they are. Great. Or whatever.

Shit. Sometimes Manuel wishes he could stop himself from thinking or at least stop having to listen to his own thoughts.  
Benni, who is sitting next to him at breakfast, seems to realise that something’s off with Manuel.

“Did they cancel your endorsement deal with Nutella or why are you attacking your bread roll like that?”

Manuel just glares at him but even Lukas laughs and that guy is usually absolutely useless before 10 am.

“No, dude, just... ready to put some energy into training. Can’t let Ronaldo and his boy band win this match.” Manuel grins.

This statement wins Manuel amusement from everyone sitting on their table and he mentally writes the joke down to repeat it in Cristiano’s presence.  
He couldn’t let Mesut or Sami know about it, though, since they’re weirdly protective of someone who’s able to buy his own country of bodyguards and let them live in houses built of trophies.

Kevin laughs about the joke, too, and somehow that makes Manuel feel all warm in his fucking chest or some cheesy shit like he’s back in high school and writing Yes/No/Maybe-letters.

Glancing at Kevin once in a while, _surprisingly_ doesn’t provide Manuel with any type of new information except the exact level of gayness that he’s able to reach so he tries to stop himself while also not looking like he’s avoiding him.  
Because, man, been there, done that, and he really values the careful friendship that they’ve been able to create.

Jogi walks in and drops off some information about their training sessions and Manuel thinks he hears the words _insufficient cohesion_ a couple of times but Jogi’s dialect is hard to understand through the crunching when Manuel chews his Nutella bread.

When Jogi is done and has left, Thomas punches Manuel’s shoulder and grins.  
“I’m gonna show them my new dance moves!”

Philipp, using his magic captain abilities of doomTM, seems to notice Manuel’s confused look across two tables and repeats what their trainer just told them.  
“The reporters will be here tomorrow for pre-world cup interviews and photos.”

Thomas get up from his chair, shakes his hips in a way that’s not suitable for national tv and sings “Hell yeah, look at my dance moves”.

Manuel rolls his eyes, chews harder and crunches louder.

* * *

 

After breakfast, everybody gathers on the pitch for the training session.  
It takes them exactly three laps around the grass to notice Lukas and Basti are missing because that’s when Thomas and Andre want to recount the poker game from last evening and they can’t find Lukas to tell his side of this _incredibly funny_ (if you believe them) story.  
Manuel figures that he can still die a happy death surrounded by loving family members (Kevin included, shut the fuck up) without ever having heard the poker story but the absence of the two guys is weird indeed.

The team plays rock-paper-scissors to decide who is going to tell Jogi, and Mario loses but Philipp takes pity on him and delivers the message.

Jogi just sighs and says, “Oh, well.” in the resigned voice of a father who’s just been called by the school to tell him that his son ate a crayon _again_. “Go search for them then.”

The search parties comb through the whole area to no avail. Philipp sitting on Per’s shoulders directs the players through the bushes to check every single corner of the resort but Basti and Lukas are nowhere to be seen.

After thirty fucking minutes out in the heat, crawling through dry sand, Manuel decides that no kind of emergency that the two might be in is worth the effort and sits down in the shadow.  
Five minutes later, Kevin sits down next to him, red-faced and panting.  
Manuel can see the sweat running down his face, his neck and under his jersey and pointedly looks away.  
If this was a Taylor Swift song, he’d run home right now and cry on his bed, clutching his diary to his chest.  
But this is the real world, so he’s going to run home _later_ and cry on his bed without a diary and maybe jerk off in the shower. Whatever.

“Where do you think they are?” Kevin asks, looking at the rest of the team that had not given up the search yet and were currently discussing whether Lukas and Basti might be able to hide in a rain barrel.

Manuel laughs and wipes the sweat from his forehead. “Probably downtown somewhere. Having fun.”

Kevin nods and they joke around for a couple of minutes, when Jogi shouts their names.  
“Manuel! Kevin! I’m not paying you to sit around and do nothing! It’s bad enough that we’re missing this training but you can’t even participate in the search! As a punishment you’ll get to do a nice round of work-outs while the others can leave and get a free day until we find Lukas and Bastian.”

Manuel is smart enough not to mention that technically, Jogi isn’t paying them anything and decides to endure the punishment although he’s as unhappy about it as Kevin looks.

The other players celebrate their free day and run off in a group, lead by Per who was still giving Philipp a piggyback.

“At least we get to do this together.” Kevin says with an honest smile and somewhere in the distance, Manuel can hear Mesut laughing. Sucker.

Jogi lets them go without supervision. His voice says, “I trust you enough to not skip your punishments.” but his eyes say, “If you kill each other, then whoever dies had it coming.”

Apparently he hadn’t received information yet that Manuel and Kevin weren’t exactly rivals anymore.

“This is only your fault, by the way.” Kevin says when they walk to the exercise room. “If you had not stopped searching, I wouldn’t have stopped either.”

“Oh, so basically it’s my fault because you don’t have the cognitive abilities to make your own decisions?” And Manuel’s not going lie, he’s pretty proud of that comeback.

“ _Your mom_ doesn’t have the cogni-“ Kevin starts with a shit-eating grin but doesn’t get to finish because Manuel chases him all the way across the yard while shaking his fist at him.

They’re already out of breath when they reach the exercise room and Manuel catches Kevin to have him in a headlock.  
“I surrender!” Kevin cries out and if Manuel drags his hands across Kevin’s back when letting him go, then that’s none of your business.

For a moment, they stand across each other, still breathing hard.  
Manuel can feel himself blushing so he coughs and motions Kevin to get into the room as casually as he can, which admittedly is as casual as a rock.

They actually do start the exercises right away because as Kevin says Jogi ‘probably has cameras all over this place to make sure we don’t secretly spend our free time with girls’.

Manuel nods with a pained look on his face and kicks the step machine with frustration. Sometimes he totally forgets how damn _straight_ footballers can be.

They drop to the floor and do their push-ups and Manuel can hear Kevin count them under his breath. Cute.

“Can I ask you a question?” Kevin suddenly asks in the middle of the sixth push-up and Manuel gets minor heart-attack.  
Shit, did he do anything suspicious? Maybe the last instagram comment (‘You’re nearly as cute as Manuel Neuer’ by GoalieGirl86) from his fake fan-account was a little too obvious?

Manuel stays propped up on his arms in the middle of his push-up and slowly says, “Sure.”

“Are you, like, nervous about the game?”

Manuel laughs in relief. That's a question he can answer honestly.

"Not really? We're a good team. I mean, as long as we can find Basti and Lukas until then!"  
Kevin nods and _hmm_ s and they continue their exercise in silence.

Suddenly, Kevin stops and pulls off shirt.  
Excuse me!?, Manuel thinks, _this_ wasn’t in the terms and conditions.

“Sorry," Kevin says with a soft smile on his face, “I was just getting a little-“ he gestures down his chest like Manuel isn’t just half a meter away from his glistening skin, “- sweaty.”

Manuel nods dumbfoundedly.  
_Yeah, sure, just get undressed Kevin, like I care. Luckily we get advanced trainings on how to not jump your hot team-mate’s bones when you’re stuck in an otherwise empty room with him. Because that’s, you know, an issue at FC Bayern Munich._

In the end, Manuel decides to take off his own shirt, too, because that’s probably what any normal friend would do? Maybe?  
It only makes things worse though because now they sometimes brush against each other with their naked skin and Manuel has to work hard (hard. hahahaha ha. no.) to disguise his accidental moans as heavy breathing.

Manuel tries to ignore it and puts his body and mind into the push-ups.  
“I bet I can do more push-ups than you.” Kevin wheezes and so _that’s_ how this turns into some ridiculous competition that ends with both their arms feeling like jelly and them lying next to each other, panting and exchanging their worst insults.

“Your mom is so dumb -” Kevin says because he apparently uses the 90% of the brain that humans supposedly not utilize as storage for ‘your mom’ jokes. “Your mom is so dumb she drowned during the wave at the football stadium.”

And yes, shut up, Manuel laughs about that.  
Kevin laughs about it, too, although it was his own joke so they roll around laughing like children in a goddamn commercial for baby food.

Suddenly, the door to the room opens and of all people on this blessed Earth, Lukas and Basti come in, giggling, all draped over each other.  
Their hair and clothes are ruffled, their cheeks red and they seem blissfully unaware that twenty grown men just crawled through bushes on their knees, trying to find them.

Basti drags Lukas into the room and says gleefully, “Luka, do you know what we’re-“ when his eyes drop to Kevin and Manuel still lying on the floor next to each other and he closes his mouth slowly.

For a moment, both Lukas and Basti look somewhat – shocked? embarrassed? surprised? – before Lukas pushes himself in front of his friend and gestures between Manuel and Kevin like he’s trying to invent the ventilator with a look of disbelief on his face.

Manuel shakes his head resignedly, sits up and reaches for his shirt. “So where the hell have you been? We’ve had training this morning and you two weren’t there!”  
Kevin, annoyingly, makes no move to get his shirt and agrees, “I won’t drag myself through Brazilian brambles for you again!”

Lukas is still doing the ventilation motion and Manuel considers calling a doctor.  
Then however, Basti whose face mirrors Lukas in disbelief speaks up.  
“ _You_ two? Are you for real? I would have guessed it about some other guys maybe – like Mats and Benni – but you?” Basti turns to Lukas for affirmation.

Lukas nods slowly and agrees. “Yeah, Mats and Benni – though there’s something about Mesut, too, I’m getting that... vibe? I would also probably bet some money if you s-“

Kevin interrupts Lukas by coughing loudly and splutters “What? What are you talking about? Us? Mats and Benni?”

Manuel just frowns like it’s his job. Maybe if he concentrates hard enough this situation will make sense and –

“You two. Together. You know, _together_ together.” Lukas shrugs and wiggles his eyebrows. Kevin’s eyes widen.

Nope. No, no. No.  
We’re not doing this right now, Manuel thinks, red on his cheeks rising, and tries to calculate how fast the police could get him out of here if he called right now and told them he’s been abducted by two madmen-slash-footballers.  
Now he wasn’t very good at maths in school, but he decides that at the very least it wouldn’t be worth the BILD-headline.

“What?” Kevin croaks and Manuel tries to remember his first-aid-course because he’s not looking good right now.

“You know, _together **together**_ together." Bastian supplies unhelpfully with a serene look on his face.

And Kevin, that imbecile, still doesn’t get it. How that man manages to live, is a secret to Manuel.

Manuel sighs and hides his head in his hands. “They think we were... making out in here”, he groans and finally Kevin catches a ride on the clue train.

Kevin looks at Manuel, then at Lukas who is leaning against Basti. Manuel can hear the gears turning in his head.  
When Basti and Lukas had walked in, him and Manuel had been lying on the floor close to each other, out of breath, sweaty - and without their shirts on. Not to mention that fact that everybody but them was probably having fun _not_ doing punishment exercises somewhere else so it would seem like Manuel and Kevin had sneaked away.

Kevin blushes, grabs his shirt, mumbles something unintelligible, pushes past Basti out of the room and is gone.  
Well, that went great.

Manuel groans, gets up and glares at The Dynamic Duo Lukas and Basti who don’t even have the conscience to looks remorseful.

“We’re not together.” Manuel says sternly and repeats it slower, when Lukas opens his mouth to disagree.  
“We were doing goddamn push-ups in here as a punishment exercise because we got in a fight searching for you truants.”

Whatever it was that _they_ had been doing, Manuel thinks and then.

It hits him.

Elaborate Gay Chicken.

More like Elaborate Gay Fucking _Eagle_ or y’know as experts might want to call it: a relationship.  
So _they_ were going to make out in here. Ew.  
...or, you know, actually kind of...hot?  
Manuel slaps himself mentally for thinking that.

“Yeah.” Basti just says and grins cheerfully. “Takes one to know one”.  
He pulls Lukas closer and gives him a kiss on his cheek.

Manuel is man enough to admit he’s kind of jealous but right now he has to make sure that Lukas and Basti don’t get the wrong idea. Or the right idea. Which would be the wrong one.

“We’re not dating!” Manuel repeats one last time and is close to punching Lukas straight up in his fucking face when he replies, “Yeah, it took us some time, too.”

“No.” Manuel says like he’s talking to a bad dog. “Don’t ever mention this to anybody.”

Okay, so maybe that just makes it sound like Kevin and Manuel are guilty of something but Manuel can’t deal with that right now. He has to find Kevin to clear this up so he leaves Lukas and Basti alone, slams the door behind them and runs off, trying not to think of the ‘special exercises’ that the two of them might do now.

Manuel finds Kevin where he suspected him to be, the beach bar. He looks positively disorientated and gets up as soon as he sees Manuel.

“I’m so sorry that this happened.” Kevin says, combing his fingers through his hair.  
Manuel is confused because he thought he was the one doing the apologizing.  
“It’s all fine. I just wanted to make sure we’re, uh, fine. On the same page and everything.”

“We totally are, man. It’s fine." Kevin pats Manuel’s back and gives him a smile.

“I’m gonna go and meet up with Mats now. He wanted to show me some kind of video or whatever.”  
Kevin waves Manu and leaves him standing there alone.

Manuel sighs and decides that maybe a jog is the best way to free his head. He changes clothes, jogs out of the resort and ends up at some shopping area.  
Not ready to deal with any of this shit for today, he stays at some small cafe, gives what feels like a thousand autographs and takes just as many photos with some cute kids.

Time flies by in hours and only when Manuel’s phone beeps, he realizes that maybe he should have told someone where he was spending his free time.

 _where r u?? mesut noticd u r gon??,_ the first text message from Mats says and two others follow nearly instantly.

_nm, kevin says ur havin fun at the town. have fun!!!!!! :D_

_btw basti &lukas showd up again but idk where thy were_

Manuel has to smile a little about Mat’s mad texting skills and vaguely considers confiding in him about the whole ‘I’m gay’ and ‘I’m gay for Kevin’ and ‘I’m gay for Kevin so everyone thinks we’re dating’ thing because they’ve been best friends since, like, the invention of the football. At least.

Manuel sends back a simple ‘ _talking to fans right now, will be back this evening’_ and decides that he’ll think about telling Mats again tomorrow.

His phone beeps again.

_u have fans??????????_

* * *

 

In fact, it’s so late that when Manuel returns to his house, everyone else is already in their bed.  
There’s still light coming from Benni’s bed (he’s texting someone and Manuel would be ready to bet both of his gloves that it’s Mats) and Jule’s (who is probably reading up on How to Give an Interview 101, that baby).

Kevin is already sleeping so Manuel doesn’t turn on the lights in their room and promptly steps on a lone, studded shoe that’s lying around. He has to bite back a cry of pain and hobbles into his bed, trying to be quiet as to not wake Kevin and annoy him.  
If that’s not comradeship, then he doesn’t know what is, Manuel thinks while rubbing his aching foot.

In preparation for the interviews tomorrow, Manuel googles ‘how to stop making people think we’re dating’ because if a fucking ZDF reporter picks up on this, he might just consider drowning himself before even touching a single ball this World Cup.

Google cheekily offers the wikihow page on ‘how to stop liking your crush: 6 steps (with pictures)’ but fuck you, Manuel hasn’t dropped to that level quite yet.

Searching for ‘how to stop making people think i’m dating’ results in a link to a _reddit_ page of all things on ‘how to stop people from thinking I’m gay’ and Manuel pulls a face before closing the tab and googling ‘manuel neuer best saves’.

Nothing like a bit of great cinema to lull you to sleep.


	3. Mats

When Manuel opens his eyes the next day, the first thing he sees is. Well. It’s a muscled chest, there’s really no other way to describe it.  
Some guy is leaning over him and reaching for his phone next to his head.

Maybe he died and the football god sent him to heaven. But no, if a football god exists, he’d let them win this World Cup before any of them died.

Manuel props himself up on his elbows, blinks through drowsy eyes and it takes a moment for him to focus on – oh.

Uh.

_Uhm._

The chest belongs to Kevin, that’s one thing that Manuel can work out.  
The face with the damn pink lips and the green-brown eyes – the face that’s about ten centimeters away from Manuel’s own face – unfortunately also belongs to Kevin.  
And Kevin – Kevin is way too close right now.

So close that Manuel has a valid excuse for the fact that the only thing he gets out of his mouth in that moment is “Hah?”

Nice, he thinks, use universal language.

“Sorry, I just wanted to, uh, turn down the volume.” Kevin says and that doesn’t even any make bloody sense so Manuel just stares at him and Kevin stares back like a deer caught in headlights.

‘A hot deer’ Manuel thinks and then ‘What the fuck? A hot deer? What is wrong with you, Neuer?’

Neither of them moves so they just stand there, Manuel half-lying, half-sitting on his bed and Kevin over him, only supporting himself with the arm he used to reach for Manuel’s phone.

It should be awkward but somehow it isn’t and Manuel tries to think about what exactly it is _then_ but Kevin breathes in and licks his lips and... thinking is more difficult than Manuel remembers it to be.

Kevin’s eyes flick to Manuel’s lips for just the fraction of a second but Manuel swears he didn’t just imagine that.  
There’s a weird type of gravity setting in that must be native to Brazil and the space between Manuel’s and Kevin’s faces shrinks.

But.  
And of course there’s a ‘but’ because this is Manuel Neuer’s life and the universe hates him and maybe Kevin fucking Großkreutz hates him, too and it should be some kind of sign that Manuel can’t decide which one is worse like a goddamn loser nerd.

So, yeah, they never close the space because they are startled by the tinny voice of a sports commentator yelling, “He takes the shot and –AND NEUER KEEPS A CLEAN SHEET! WHAT AN AMAZING MAN. That was a difficult one but, phew, he can really block any ball.”

Wait, what? _What?_

Manuel’s not one to turn down praise but getting cockblocked by an invisible commentator voice is a surreal, even for him.

Kevin grabs Manuel’s phone and switches off the sound. “I just wanted to turn down the volume” he repeats faintly.  
He looks at his feet, touches his lips and opens his mouth again like he wants to continue but then he doesn’t, just runs his fingers through his hair, offers a strained smile and disappears into the bathroom.

Manuel’s completely awake now and pieces together what the hell just happened. He remembers watching videos of his own games last evening but with his headphones in and realises that he has fallen asleep with the playlist still running.  
Manuel finds the tangled headphones on the floor when he gets up from his bed so they must have fallen out during the night, letting the videos play at full sound.  
He has a hard time remembering whether anything more embarrassing ever happened to him and the only thing that comes close is when a kid asked him to sign a photo of Iker Casillas.

So _that’s_ why Kevin was trying to turn off his phone and that’s why Manuel must now seem like some narcissistic fool to him who watches his own football games for fun.

Manuel ignores the stupid voice in his head that tells him that he _had been_ watching his own football games for fun and anyway there’s probably some rule that says that you’re allowed to be conceited when you’re crossed in lo-

No. Manuel stops himself right there because that’s the kind of gross shit that gets you in trouble really fast as is proven by, like, Romeo and Juliet or every other lovesick teenager.

Instead, he gets dressed.  
Manuel pulls out his grey sweats and a plain green V-neck because he’s Manuel freaking Neuer and would look good even in a trash bag or – heaven forbid – in a Borussia Dortmund jersey. Hell yeah.

His confidence, however, only lasts until he can hear the shower running in the bathroom and wonders whether perhaps the shirt was too tight or the sweats too casual and what is Kevin going to think about this outfit? Damn Kevin.

Manuel actually looks at himself in the mirror and tries to assess his good and bad sides when he realises that he is wondering what type of fashion a guy prefers whose favourite food is kebab.

But somehow (Manuel wonders where the hell his orderly life went wrong) he doesn’t even think that’s weird and there are those fucking gay _rainbows-and-puppies-and-world-peace_ thoughts again.

Manuel holds his ear up to the bathroom door and maybe the snooping is a little creepy but so are Mario’s hours-long phone calls to Marco and nobody says anything about that, right.

The shower is still running and since when does Kevin shower that long? Manuel can’t hear anything else, not even Kevin badly singing ‘Auf uns’ or shampoo bottles clattering.  
He even knocks on the door but there’s no answer and unless Kevin spontaneously died in the shower, Manuel really, really, really screwed it up this time.

Manuel genuinely wants this to work out some way and keep whatever he can get and if that’s just _friendship_ with Kevin then that’s enough too. He can ignore those stings in his chest, easy-peasy.

Well.  
Call the cops, Manuel sounds as cheesy as a good pizza but this self-pity just ain’t happening because that’s, like, _so_ not him.

He swears to himself that he’s going to do anything to fix this. Whatever ‘this’ is.

This, Manuel decides slowly, is a desperate time and desperate times call for Mats Hummels, that’s what his grandma used to tell him or something.  
Not sure whether she also said ‘desperate times call for Manuel Neuer to tell Mats Hummels he’s gay and gay for Kevin Großkreutz’ but that’s, like, totally implied.

Manuel considers writing a note for Kevin but ‘ _I’m sorry we nearly kissed, I thought you were into it_.’ somehow doesn’t cut it, not matter how true.

So he just grabs his phone and texts ‘ _I need to talk to you._ ’ to Mats with proper capitalisation like an adult and everything.

Then he runs for his life. Or, well, he runs to Mats’ house. Same thing.

Manuel basically knocks down the door to Mats’ room the way that he pounds on it.

It’s Philipp who answers the door, though, and damn, Manuel forgot that they are roommates, how is he going to get rid of him to talk to Mats and he’s already kind of hyperventilating because he will probably die alone and sad without Mats _or_ Kevin and _why_ exactly is Philipp wearing a suit?

Philipp eyes Manuel in his sweats disapprovingly. “Why aren’t you ready for the interviews yet?”

Right.  
The interviews that they will apparently be doing _before_ breakfast, Manuel totally forgot about them.

But whatever, he already knows what they’ll ask because they always ask the same questions ( _What do you think about your group? What are your hopes on Germany winning the Cup? Any hints on your line-up against Portugal? Do you miss your friends here in Brazil?)_ and the answers there are easy ( _doable, high, no, sure_ ).  
He just needs to get the order right.

“I’ll get ready right away but Jogi said he wanted to talk to you about something important. He told me to get you.” Manuel lies and vaguely feels bad about it because Philipp straightens his back and is all business right away when he leaves to discuss the imaginary problem with their trainer.

Only vaguely though because he sold his conscience when he signed the contract with FC Bayern Munich.

Manuel enters the scarily tidy room and faces Mats who had already followed his exchange with Philipp curiously.

Unsure what to do now that he’s actually standing in front of Mats, Manuel sits down on Philipp’s (scarily neat) bed and pointedly stares at the wall above Mats’ head begging that he doesn’t have to start the conversation.

“In your text you seemed... distressed. So what’s wrong?” Mats says indeed while fiddling with his shirt cuffs.  
Why are they all wearing those fancy clothes? Are they going to get interviewed by Barack fucking Obama?

Before Manuel can even start to think about how he’s going to explain this whole Kevin situation, Mats continues.

“Is it something that happened yesterday when you left the resort? Don’t tell me you walked into some shop and then it turned out to be some illegal brothel and the police got you and you had to call FIFA to bail you out _again_ and now it’s going to be in the papers tomorrow?”

Manuel nearly falls off the bed. “What, no? How would I even- What do you mean ‘ _again_ ’? I’ve never done anything like that!”

“Oh.” Mats says cheerfully. “Must have been someone else then.”

Manuel files that under ‘things to google’.  
“No, no, it’s not about yesterday. I mean it kind of is but not in that way. It’s not about any specific day, it’s more like a. General thing. Yeah. It’s not even a bad thing, more like a- well, I don’t know what it is, that’s for you to judge.”

Mats looks at Manuel like he just told him that England is going to win the World Cup. “Just tell me, dude. I’m not gonna hate you, whatever it is.”

Manuel cringes, hides his head in his elbow and just says it. “I’m- I’m gay.”  
He only stutters once, wow, he deserves some kind of medal for that.

And Mats. Mats doesn’t say anything. For a ridiculously long time.  
Manuel figures that it would be common courtesy or some shit to at least react to what he just said, mind you, he just let Mats in on Chapter 5 of his Autobiography that he’s going to title ‘Life Goals’ and publish when he’s fifty.

Manuel squints through his fingers and Mats is vaguely smiling at him but looks like he doesn’t quite get the point of this.

“I’m gay.” Manuel repeats.  
“And?” Mats says.

Manuel replays their conversation in his head to try and find the fault in his quite logical chain of reasoning about him, you know, being gay. He thought he had been pretty straight-forward about it. (Straight. Haha.)

“That’s. That’s kind of it. I thought you’d be surprised or something.”

Mats leans against the table and eyes Manuel with a baffled look on his face. “Why would I be surprised? You told us like two years ago. That’s not-“  
Realization dawns on Mats face and Manuel frowns because there’s definitely something that he’s missing here.

Mats puts his hand over his mouth. “Oh my god. You don’t even remember your own coming-out. I didn’t realise that you were _that_ drunk. Holy shit. _Holy shit._ ”

Manuel looks at Mats like he just told him _Luxembourg_ will win the Cup because that's about as likely as this conversation happening right now, right here, to him.

“What.” he breathes and that absolute asshole Mats bursts out laughing.  
Manuel decides to cancel their friendship until at least 2016.

It takes Mats several minutes to calm down again and fucking finally explain what’s going on.

“Oh my god. I’m sorry, this is just too funny.” he says still grinning. “Do you remember Benni’s second-to-last birthday party? Not the one with the bees, the one after that.”

Manuel nods slowly. He kind of does remember but he had knocked back so many drinks that evening, anything past 10 pm was just a fuzzy vortex of colours. Oh. Things are starting to make sense here.

“You were extremely drunk. Like so drunk that we had to pull you away from the karaoke machine after three Maroon 5 songs. Benni suggested that we go to another bar where some band was playing or whatever. Only you and I agreed so the three of us left and at some point you started to cry into your beer. Benni and I were both like ‘what’ and then you told us you’re gay. We hugged it out in a totally manly way and that was it. You know, thinking back, it’s kind of weird that you never brought it up again but I figured you just weren’t too comfortable talking about it. And now you say you don’t freaking remember it!”

That story has to be joke. It has to be but Mats smiles at him honestly and Manuel decides that maybe the story is true and he himself is the joke because who the hell comes out to his friends and forgets about it?

“Dude, lighten up!” Mats laughs. “I know you’re gay, whatever. I didn’t say anything these past two years so I’m not going to say anything now. We’re friends and I don’t care. Hell, I even made out with Benni once for a bet so chill, Manu. There’s only one thing I can’t forgive you and that’s when you said that we wouldn’t have to worry, you wouldn’t molest us or anything, since we’re not hot anyway. Like, I’m sorry but I’m very hot.”

Manuel briefly dwells on the thing with Benni because that’s kind of, excuse me, _gay_ but this is about Kevin and him so he laughs along with Mats, un-cancels their friendship and accepts the hug Mats is offering him.

“I’ll have you know that I was on a list of the ten hottest footballer in this World Cup!”

“By whom? Bravo?” Manuel asks and ducks under Mats’ playful punches.

They only stop when Mats looks at his watch.

“Interviews start in twenty so... if there’s anything else you wanna tell me, do it now.” Manuel opens his mouth because there’s still the whole Kevin thing but Mats raises his index finger to stop him.

“If you are going to tell me that Kevin and you are dating, then you don’t need to. I totally called it.”

Wow. Ok. Manuel cancels their friendship again because Mats is a fucking traitor.  
This is what? The third time this happens. Why does everyone think they’re dating?

“We’re not fucking dating! That’s the whole fucking problem because I’m a fucking gay loser and Kevin isn’t and everyone assumes we’re fucking dating but we’re not and that’s the fucking problem right there!” Manuel says a little louder, okay, a lot louder than strictly necessary and throws up his hands in exasperation.

Mats doesn’t even blink an eye. “Woah, boy, so he doesn’t know you’re crushing on him. That sucks.”

And Manuel tells him the whole story from the hug to Kevin making him see stupid rainbows to Philipp to Basti and Lukas (he leaves out the juicy details) to their near-kiss this morning. As well as he can in ten minutes.

Mats just rubs Manuel’s back while he narrates his loser life, and nods like a shitty therapist.

When the story in finished, Mats walks to his closet and slips on his jacket.

“I think," he says solemnly, “you should just tell him. It’s worth a try, in my opinion. I mean he must really like you, if he endures your ugly face every day. So yeah, go try, you little soldier on the quest to romance. Bust out the L-word, you know.”

“Libero?” Manuel asks and has to dodge a half-empty chips bag that Mats throws at him.

 _“Loveeeee”_ , Mats answers and draws a heart into the air.

“I kind of hate you.”

“I know. But you love me, too. And I love you, too, which is why I’m telling you that we’ve got to get to going if we want to get our chance to tell Germany why we’re the best on tv.”

Manuel lets Mats manoeuvre him out of the room and mentally updates their friendship to gold-status.

 

* * *

 

Manuel’s in the middle of a boring interview (he didn’t change his clothes but they promised they’d only film him from the waist up) when his phone beeps.

He apologizes to the reporter and opens the message. It’s from Mats.

_heard they asked u bout kev in the intervw. did u say ‘ilu’ on national tv?_

Manuel rolls his eyes and starts typing.

_No. Shut up._

_I need to talk to him later, though, and I’m kind of scared._

The answer arrives seven minutes later and Manuel thinks that the camera crew is going to have a coronary because of all the text alerts they’ll have to cut out of the interview. Serves them right though for asking stupid questions about _fashion_ of all things.

The text only reads: _(_ _｡_ _≖_ _‿_ _≖_ _｡✿)_

Manuel thinks he definitely has to find out who that brothel-story that Mats told him about happened to – to use it as black-mail material.

He quickly sends back his answer:

_I’ll tell Benni that you liked kissing him if you don't shut up.  
_

Mats answers: _(_ _｡_ _≖△≖_ _｡✿)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never thought I'd google 'Kevin Großkreutz eye colour' in my life but things happened. I don’t know how bad I am with references to absurd German things so if that ever gets weird please call me out on it.


	4. Mesut (and the baby gang) / Marco

4.

Recounting the past four days, two things happen: they fucking blow Portugal out of the water and Kevin is a cowardly son of a bitch.

Wait, maybe Manuel should expand on this.  
They fucking blow Portugal out of the water with 4:0 and Kevin is a cowardly son of a bitch who ruins any kind of chance for true love.

Manuel and Kevin haven’t really talked ever since Basti and Lukas walked in on them essentially doing nothing and Manuel thinks that if Kevin doesn’t want to talk to him anymore, it could at least be because they did _something_.

And no, that awful non-kiss doesn’t count.

It’s not like Manuel doesn’t try to get Kevin to sit down with him and talk to him, he really does, all day, every day.  
He wonders what kind of ninja powers they teach you at the BVB because the shit that Kevin pulls to avoid Manuel when they’re even sharing the same damn _room_ is fucking supernatural.

In the morning, Kevin makes sure to be the first one to get up and that’s at like _fuck-me-in-the-ass_ o’clock in the morning when not even the mosquitoes are awake yet.  
Manuel tries to get up earlier than Kevin _once_ and of course that’s when Kevin sleeps in until 12 am and does the punishment laps that he gets for being to late for the training session without a single complaint.

Manuel suspects that Kevin only pretended to be asleep and only puts in headphones for the extra laps so he can ignore Manuel and now that’s just childish. Even for them.  
Although he kind of looks hot, his sweaty shirt clinging to his back, an expression of determination on his face.

But Manuel shakes off that thought and takes a cold shower with his teammates.  
Mats looks at him and shrugs with a sympathetic look on his face. Life sucks, man.

It’s the same thing in the evening: Either Kevin already sleeps when Manuel drops into his bed or he manages to sneak in when Manuel is already asleep.

During training, Kevin pointedly ignores Manuel to the point of it reaching a new level of weird and even Thomas – who has the social awareness of a carefree butterfly – shoots Manuel questioning looks along with the balls into the goal.

“Are you back to being rivals now? I thought you buried that hatched and you are BFFs now?” he asks sceptically.

Manuel answers, “Hell if I know.” and puts the most mournful look on his face he can muster and it works well enough to make Thomas not ask another question.

Luckily, Jogi seemingly never got the memo about Kevin and Manuel _not_ being rivals anymore so in eyes, the situation probably remains unchanged. Philipp eyes them both but doesn’t say anything, only fumbles with his captain’s armband more often than usual.

Not even their goddamn win against Ronaldo&Friends earns Manuel anything more from Kevin than a short nod in his direction. Kevin does seem... troubled and agitated when he doesn’t know that Manuel is looking (which, uhm, is, uh, often) but puts on a strained, empty smile whenever he catches him.

Kevin now spends all of the meals and their free time with Benni of all people.

Benni is the main reason Manuel never manages to catch Kevin alone and Manuel thinks about how Benni _knows_ that he’s gay and maybe he thinks that he is going to corrupt Kevin or something and that’s why Benni keeps glaring at him like he invented the cure for cancer and forgot to share it with mankind.

Benni and Kevin sit together and talk to each other and eat their stupid cereal together like what do they think they are? _Married?? Ugh._

Mats watches them, too, and his annoyance has to have some kind of personal reason but Manuel doesn’t give a shit right now, even if he feels bad for it.

The harmony in their house in dwindling to a level of none-existence and Manuel can’t believe how nobody cares.

Basti only has eyes for Lukas and wouldn’t notice if Hansi burnt down their house unless they’d one day decide to make out in an actual bed (Manuel only ever catches them in weird places like the kitchen or behind the door to Toni’s and Roman’s room or under the billiard table. He decides to never touch the billiard cues ever).

Nothing could ever put Matthias off his stride and it’s endearing how he still smiles widely when Kevin tells him to tell Manuel ‘to fuck off’ because Kevin is ‘totally fine, stop stalking me’ and Matthias delivers the message to Manuel – who is standing right next to the two of them.

And Jule. Jule is, like, the sassy teenager caught in Manuel’s and Kevin’s divorce so it’s not like his vote counts or anything.

Then, one night, Kevin actually, physically, with his own hands (but without remorse or a word about it), carries his blanket and pillow over to Benni’s room.

He brushes past Manuel who angrily grabs Kevin by his arm and pushes him against a near wall.

Manuel registers the vibrations of Kevin’s breathing against his chest and realises that _this_ might not have been the smartest idea he ever had.  
A low, feral feeling takes over his brain and _what_ exactly had he been thinking about talking it out again?

Manuel feels Kevin’s breath on his face, he can count his eye-lashes and he is so very painfully close and –

and Kevin looks so _hurt and confused_ for a moment that Manuel eases his grip on him and Kevin uses his chance to free himself and take a few steps back, trying to steady himself.

“What?” Kevin spits.

“We need to talk about this – our thing.” Manuel manages and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared right now.

“This is _your_ thing.” Kevin replies, takes his blanket and enters Benni’s room with a slamming door behind him.

Oh.

So this is what it’s about, Manuel realises as his heart drops into his gut.

 _His_ thing. _His_ crush, _his_ shitty crush only, Kevin had only been too nice to tell him that he was disgusted.  
But the half-kiss was the final straw or whatever or maybe it was him pursuing Kevin over the past week like some pathetic stalker or maybe it was because the entire universe still had Manuel on its shit-list and no amount of blocked goals could get him off there.

Manuel can feel fucking tears rise in his eyes but he sure as hell isn’t going to cry in the middle of the hallway but he allows himself to drop the floor.

He pulls out his phone and opens a comment as GoalieGirl86.  
The flashing line in the text field pulsates threateningly and Manuel types ‘ _Sorry._ ’ with shaking hands. Shit.

He pulls himself off the floor after that (like the grown man he is) and starts stumbling out of the house and towards Mats’ house (like the lovesick teenager he feels like).

It’s dark outside and Manuel can’t really see where he is going so it’s not really a surprise when he walks into a lanky tree that turns out to be Mesut.

Manuel can make out three other faces in the dark behind him. The baby gang. Or well, Jule, Erik and Christoph but apparently bonding over your shared love for Skittles is easy when you’re young, even when you play for different clubs.

Mesut shoos the three of them behind him like they are his little ducklings and Manuel wonders what the hell they had been doing out here. Mesut is holding his beloved Brazil travel guide, Chris is hiding a collector’s album for football stickers behind his back and Erik is playing with a pocket knife and somehow that doesn’t quite sound like the recipe for kid-appropriate fun.

“Is this your walk of shame?” Mesut asks with genuine interest before Julian pipes up, “Kevin and Manuel room together though.”

‘And right there,' Manuel will later tell his grandchildren (adopted, if he ever finds love again), ‘that was the point where I gave up. That’s when I got this tattoo.’ and he will point at the huge chest piece that will say ‘Kevin and I are not dating and never will be because I’m a pathetic loser’ in curly letters.

And that’s what Manuel tells Mesut and the baby gang. “Kevin and I are not dating and never will be because I’m a pathetic loser.” and it sounded a little cooler in his head but all is lost where all is lost.

Manuel sits down in the warm sand and bends forward because he feels a little like throwing up.

Mesut kneels down next to him and awkwardly pats his back while Julian, Erik and Christoph push each other out of the way to get a good look at the free soap opera that’s playing for them right now.  
Manuel vaguely wonders what a soap opera about the German National Team would be called and writes ‘ _Corner Kick For Love_ ‘on his mental list of registered trademarks.

“It’s not like Kevin isn’t attracted to you, too.” Mesut appeases.

“Are you sure?” Manuel laughs dryly. “He only ran away when we were close to kissing. And he still runs away whenever I want to talk to him. So yeah, sure, he _totally_ loves me.”

Mesut shakes his head in amusement.

“Manu, I _know_ that he sees something in you.” he says with the sigh of a long-suffering life-coach. “When we re-enacted your laughable commercial for Coke Zero at that one friendly match back in June, he got a hard-on. I swear.”

“You make fun of my commercials when I’m not there?” Manuel asks offendedly, before it hits him what Mesut is revealing right now.

“Never mind! He got a hard-on!?” he says like it’s the best thing that he’s ever heard and Mesut, his personal hero, found a way to remove Manuel from the universe’s shit list.

“ _And if you want to, I’m not your girlfriend but Manuel Neuer.”_ Chris quotes helpfully from behind Mesut.

And yes, Manuel remembers that commercial.  
It did seem kind of. Less than heterosexual. To him when they filmed it but Coke Zero pays so he would probably full-on make out with Lionel Messi in front of the camera as long as they said ‘no homo’ afterwards. And provided an apple box for Messi to stand on.

But who wants to make out with Messi when they could make out with Kevin?  
Okay, Manuel has to admit that would probably be 99% of the world’s population but not him.

And right now, the fact that Kevin might find him even moderately attractive makes Manuel’s day. Night. Whatever.

Manuel texts Mats ‘ _Is the Coke Zero thing about Kevin true??????_ ’ and adds ‘ _No pressure but if you don’t say yes I will die_ ’ for good measure.

_what coke 0 thign?_

_oh._

_i tots forgot to tel u_

_donut kill me_

_*donut_

_*dON’T_

And Manuel’s seeing fucking rainbows and puppies again so he can forgive Mats for accidentally withholding crucial information like that.

He does scratch the gold-status of their friendship though. Silver it is.

Manuel turns to thank Mesut but the little group already has moved on to stand around some kind of plant and god knows what important football skill Mesut is going to show the babies with a travel guide, a collector’s album and a pocket knife.

When Manuel moves back into his bed, the room feels empty without Kevin but his heart just a little less so.

 

5.

Even knowing that Kevin is kind of into him, weirdly doesn’t magically get them together because apparently you have to, like, talk for that to happen and Kevin still makes himself scarce.

Manuel now hopes that it’s just because he’s afraid to be gay or afraid that Manuel is secretly a sarcastic douche who will kiss him and drop him.  
Which is totally not true.  
He’s not a douche who will kiss him and drop him.

For breakfast the next day, four people are absent: Lukas and Basti (Manuel knows what _those two_ are doing) and Kevin and Benni.

Mats and Manuel share a mopy look before participating in the conversation that’s currently happening at their table.  
The challenge is to name as many Belgian players as possible which Philipp wins by a large margin.  
Next up are Taylor Swift songs which are Manuel’s forte and he lists twenty while Toni nods along, full of respect. Finally somehow can see his talent.

Mario is speaking to someone on the phone with a slightly lovey-dovey expression on his face that makes Manuel want to vomit when suddenly he says ‘Sure, babe’ and hands the phone to Manuel.

“Hello?” Manuel says confusedly around the Nutella bread in his mouth.

“Hey!” the person on the other line replies. It’s Marco.

“What’s up?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, but I asked Mario to pass you the phone because I heard about you and Kevin –“

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Kevin and I are _dating_ , whatever.” Manuel interrupts mockingly because he doesn’t even care anymore that that is what everybody seems to think, even Marco who is miles away in Germany.

There’s a pause on the other end of the line before Marco speaks up again.

“You’re dating? Oh my god, that’s so cute! I mean, I wouldn’t just have assumed but now that you tell me it makes so much sense! Because actually I just wanted to say that I heard about you and Kevin being nominated for this player award.”

And you wouldn’t believe just how fast Manuel slams that phone down.

He looks up into the faces of his teammates. Their expressions range from glee to surprise to nothing but a raised eyebrow and Manuel can tell he’s going to be in trouble because of what he just said on the phone. Whether it’s the good or the bad kind will be decided later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I secretly get paid by Coke Zero and spend all my money on collector’s stickers from REWE.  
> The Coke zero commercial Mesut is talking about is [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IMgTrN4N_Dw) one. Hit me up if you need a translation.
> 
> I edited and posted this at 2:40am so I apologize for any mistakes other than the usual ones.


	5. +1

It’s eerily silent in the breakfast room. Every single one of the present players is staring at Manuel like they’re predators and he’s a small cute rabbit and that’s _really_ creepy.

Even Shkodran looks up from his phone and clears his throat.

“So.” Toni says into the silence, his eyebrow still raised. If Mario’s toothy grin was any wider, Manuel thinks, his head would split.

“So.” Manuel repeats stubbornly because hell, two can play this game. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Mats next to him bend over, trying not to laugh. Homie is definitely risking the shaky silver-status of their friendship.

“So?” the other players respond in unison and. That’s just fucking scary. To think that Jogi is still nagging them about team coordination.

Manuel leans forward until his forehead hits the table between their plates. It does hurt but he figures he deserves it right now.

“Kevin and I are not dating.” he confesses to no one in particular and immediately there are disappointed sighs like Manuel _owes_ them information about his love-life or something.

Judging from the clicking noises, Shkodran’s right back to his phone.

“I wish we were though." Manuel mumbles sheepishly because he figures, in for a penny, in for a pound _._ Or well, in for a cent, in for a euro.

Either way, the clicking stops. _Aha_.

There’s another period of silence and it starts to get more awkward than that one time Andre found a porn version of the national football teams. The title was some pun on ‘balls’ that Manuel can’t remember right now but it was glorious.

Then Sami interrupts the quiet. “Are we, like, going to get the full story at some point or something because otherwise I’m out of here.”

So Manuel replays the whole thing to them, only slightly cringing at some parts and leaving out any and all mention of any hypothetical tears he might or might not have cried into his pillow because of this sucker called Kevin Großkreutz. Shut _up_.

After he’s done and his mouth is all dry and he feels like he just watched three seasons of _Corner Kick for Love_ in one go, the others nod sympathetically and Mats pats Manuel’s back.

Philipp joins Mats and suddenly Manuel is engulfed in the middle of a group hug that nearly pulls him off his chair.  
He totally doesn’t get sentimental or anything about it though because that would be girly. And that’s not a tear, it’s the ordinary moisture of his eyes, thank you very much.

“I’m not forgiving you for making fun of my commercials though.” Manuel frowns and the baby gang instantly recites, “ _And if you want to, I’m not your girlfriend but Manuel Neuer.”_

It sounds like it’s, huh, practiced but Mesut just shrugs innocently when Manuel shoots him a quizzical look.

The group hug dissolves after a minute and everyone takes a seat again. Most of them are still looking at Manuel expectantly like he just promised to pull Lionel Messi out of a hat.

Manuel feels a small jab in his side and looks ( _down_ ) to see Philipp poking him with his finger. “I called this ages ago, I hope you remember that.”

“You thought we were together. And we weren’t. And aren’t. So much for your captain abilities of doom.”

“Maybe you underestimate my psychic abilities of clairvoyance.” Philipp says and winks.

Shit, Manuel doesn’t know what that word even _means_.

“What I’m saying is that _although you made me waste fifteen minutes in a discussion with Löw about a problem that didn’t exist_ –“ Philipp continues with a glare like it’s going to buy back Manuel’s conscience, “ – we’re going to help you find out why Kevin is angry at you. And hopefully fix it if possible. For the best of the team, you know.”

Spoken like a true captain.

Manuel wants to answer, when Lukas and Basti walk into the room, arms around each other’s shoulder.

“Basti, do you have any idea where Kevin is?” Manuel demands to know because fuck it, if there’s a time to take matters into your own hands, it’s after you told your team-mates your tragic story of Coke-Zero-induced love.

Basti looks at Manuel with a somewhat weirded-out expression on his face and shrugs. “How would I know? At our house probably?”

Right. Manuel is about 317% sure that Benni will be there, too, but he’s waited long enough. He just wants to fucking explain himself, whatever Kevin might think of him after that.

So he gets up, straightens his back, takes a deep breath and gets into gear.

A couple of the guys around him whistle, someone (Manuel doesn’t have to turn around to know that it’s Thomas) yells “Go get ‘im, tiger!”

Basti and Lukas can’t possibly have any idea what’s going on but after you’ve spend enough time with the national team you just stop expecting things to make sense so they sit down, eat their breakfast and play footsie like it’s any other day.

Mats pushes Manuel out the door and Manuel walks over to their house where Kevin and Benni indeed sit together in Benni’s and Matthias’ room.

Manuel knocks on the open door and enters the room with as much determination as he can muster.

Benni and Kevin glare at him as if he just fucking killed a kitten or something so he holds up his hands in a gesture of appeasement and turns to Kevin.

“I know you hate me because I nearly kissed you or whatever but we never even really talked about it so I don’t even know whether that’s why you hate me or whether I did something else wrong because you said it’s just _my_ thing but I know about the Coke Zero thing so there has to be something more because Benni hates me too and shit, shit, shit, I’m rambling but all I really wanna say is that I figured there’s one thing you should know before you judge me and that’s. That’s the f-fact that I love you, rainbows, rose petals and everything. Yeah.”

Manuel rubs his neck and sure, this wasn’t exactly the smooth speech he had planned but it’s certainly not bad enough to warrant what happens next.

Without a word, Benni walks up to Manuel and forcefully punches him directly in the face.

 _What the fucking fuck?_ , Manuel thinks as he goes down and the pain spreads through his skull. A trickle of warm blood runs down his cheek and through the daze, he feels someone’s hand on his forehead, then he passes out.

* * *

 

When Manuel wakes up again, it’s in his bed and with his head pounding with the perceived force of a sledgehammer.

The second he cracks open his left eye (his right one feels all swollen and bruised), a wash cloth hits him in the face. Wow, _thanks_.

Manuel winces and slowly sits up on his bed. He manages without throwing up or, like, dying so it’s definitely an achievement.

Everything’s kind of blurry and Manuel has to blink a couple of times before the outlines and colours make sense.

Benni hands him another wash cloth and says, “Clean up.” monotonously while avoiding direct eye contact.

Manuel actually obeys because the dried blood is super icky and also because he doesn’t knows what else to do since a team mate just knocked him out with a punch at his eye and doesn’t even have the decency to apologize. It’s not like Manuel admitted to match fixing, he only confessed his love for Kevin.  
Gosh, Benni, _grow up_.

He considers repeating that out loud but Benni’s grim expression is just a touch of _super scary_ so Manuel resigns himself to keeping quiet.

“I do regret punching you but I don’t regret hurting you, just so you know. The shit you’re pulling with Kevin is just not cute. We’ve got a World Cup to win and you think you can, what, screw this up? And screw up Kevin’s life because you think it’s cool to play around with him and then drop him for – drop him for your damn friend with benefits?”, Benni accuses Manuel with an honestly pissed look on his face.

Manuel picks at the threads of the wash-cloth and although the things Benni just said vaguely fit into some kind of tangled misunderstanding that must have been happening, Manuel is still about a mile away from the finish line of figuring this all out.

“I’m not playing around with Kevin,"Manuel says slowly, “I was as confused as him and whatever he told you, I’m sorry that Lukas and Bastian thought we were making out and I’m sorry – about the other stuff that happened. I just don’t see why you fucking hate me because I fucking love Kevin. Apparently you were okay with me being gay at your birthday two years ago.”

Manuel shrugs helplessly and starts rubbing his eyes. Or well, eye, singular, since half his face is off-duty right now.

“Love, huh?” Benni asks doubtfully. “So what about Mats?”

“ _What_ about Mats?”

“You nearly kissed Kevin and then you ran to Mats right away to ‘get your fix’. You spend all your freaking time ‘together’.” Benni backs up his statement with air quotes.

‘Get his fix’? What the hell? What is that supposed to m-

Oh shit.

And that’s how Manuel get the last puzzle piece and looking at the picture on the puzzle, _this_ is something he might actually be able to get right.

“Mats is my _friend_. I mean he’s kind of... okay-looking...ish, whatever, all I ever did was moan to him about Kevin like a lovesick teenager. I swear to God, cross my heart and hope to die, may Bayern never win anything ever again if I’m lying, etc etc. I love Kevin, I love only him and I’m ready to repeat that until I die.”

Benni squints at Manuel pensively, his mouth a thin line. Then he nods swiftly.

“Don’t convince me. Convince him.” Benni points at the door where... _Kevin_ is awkwardly hovering in the frame like he’s already been standing there for some time.

Manuel’s heart skips a beat and makes up for it by racing a hundred miles an hour.

Benni hesitates for a second, then he leaves them alone. On his way he pulls out his phone and it figures that Mats and him probably have some things to discuss.

Manuel gets up from his bed, dizzy and swaying like a drunk Salsa dancer. He takes a few steps to reach Kevin who doesn’t move away.

“Did you hear any of that?” Manuel asks and he’s praying that Kevin did because he doesn’t trust himself to repeat it with Kevin’s eyes on him.

“Everything.” Kevin breathes.

They look into each other’s eyes and say, “I’m sorry I’m an idiot.” at the same time.

Kevin burst out laughing shyly and looks at his feet. It’s _horribly_ adorable.

“I didn’t mean to-“ Manuel starts but Kevin clasps his hand over Manuel’s mouth and says “I _know_.” emphatically and with a soft smile on his face.

Kevin’s hand moves to the side of Manuel’s face and he lets his thumb run over the wound over the right eye.

Manuel shivers and then. Kevin kisses him. Just. Like. That.

Their lips meet and it’s so perfect that he’s happy when Kevin softly bites his bottom lip because this? Not a dream. It’s the disgustingly flawless story of how Manuel Neuer got himself removed from the universe’s shit-list and found true love.

There are _fireworks_ and all that fabulous shit and Manuel melts against Kevin’s chest.

They break the kiss, breathless like after a full 90 minutes.

“I’m sorry Benni hit you, he got really intense about you and Mats.” Kevin says quietly and blushes.

“Forget about it. Let's forget all the shit that happened and let's just... do this. Let's do 'us'." Manuel offers and adds cheekily, "Although I'll have trouble forgetting how you actually moved to Benni's room. That was harsh, dude."

“I was really confused and jealous, you dickhead. I needed to talk to someone.”

“So you went and had a cry on the shoulder of a Schalke player?”, Manuel can’t help but tease.

“You went to Mats.”

“True. But then I went to you.”

And that’s, like, really cheesy but Kevin smiles widely and if Kevin asked Manuel to kill the chancellor with that smile on his face, Manuel’s pretty sure he’d just say ‘okay’.

They walk out of the house together, hand in hand, Manuel steadying himself by leaning on Kevin’s shoulder.

When they enter the breakfast room, there’s a reception like it’s a wedding. Everyone is clapping and Kevin and Manuel find themselves in the middle of a group hug again. Even (or maybe especially) Benni, who has one hand on Manuel’s back and the other one in Mat’s hair, cracks a smile.

“What happened to your eye?” Mesut asks while Erik is climbing on his back in the massive pile of football players.

Manuel opens his mouth to respond but Kevin is faster.  
“We’re dating.” he just says like that’s a totally reasonable answer to the question and gently squeezes Manuel’s hand.

It’s time for the Puppy Parade 2014 in Manuel’s heart and he even manages to ignore his stupid team-mates taking photos and whistling.

Their lips meet again and Manuel thinks that maybe BFLWTCTs – _Boyfriends For Live, Winning The Cup Together_ – sounds just about right.

Trademark pending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this last chapter was at least kind of worth the wait!  
> If you read this, I’d really love to know whether you guys are German or not in the comments, just out of curiosity.
> 
> In hindsight I apologize for neglecting the whole, uhm, football aspect of this. I hope it was still okay for a first fic that was only supposed to be 2,000 words.
> 
> I'm on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/anexactscience).


End file.
